


What happens now?

by I_had_to_be_sure



Category: Fate: The Winx Saga (TV)
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 14:41:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29315745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_had_to_be_sure/pseuds/I_had_to_be_sure
Summary: A bit of extra insight into Episode 2, featuring Silva suffering after his attack.
Relationships: Farah Dowling & Ben Harvey & Saul Silva, Farah Dowling/Saul Silva, Saul Silva & Sky
Comments: 18
Kudos: 154





	What happens now?

**Author's Note:**

> So I really wasn't expecting to love these characters as much as I do, but here we are. There are so many scenes I want to explore, starting with the moment I really believed they were going to kill my second favourite character. (I think you can guess my first and yes, I am in full denial about the ending!)
> 
> I own nothing, some lines are taken directly from the episode, and I've never watched Winx Club so this is entirely based on the show verse! Hope you enjoy, feedback is always welcome!

God, he doesn’t remember it burning this much. This isn’t the first time he’s lain in his own blood, lost in the woods and wondering when the end will come. Far from it. During Rosalind’s crusade, he’d been hurt countless times, infected by no less than a dozen Burned Ones.

But never for this long. In those dark years, hunting and fighting for days on end, scratches were common. Ben would be quick with the Zanbach, Andreas taking up his slack before the fairies finished the job. Rarely did the poison ever have time to set in, let alone paint black across his skin.

He manages to drag himself towards a tree, propping himself up against cold wood. Ripping a bandage out of his pack, he stuffs it under his shirt, finding another for his arm. Then he sits there, staring at the twisted, mangled corpse of the soldier in front of him. 

They won’t find him out here. Not until it’s too late. Farah isn’t expecting word until they reach the capital, and they’d radioed in so shortly before the attack. No one is even looking. 

Maybe that’s as it should be. Maybe it’s right that he passes here, amongst men he failed, slaughtered by a monster that should be long dead. He’s lived longer than most of his friends, raised a son he has no right to, loved a woman who deserves so much better than a murderer. Maybe it’s his time.

_Fuck that,_ he hears. Andreas or Sky, he doesn’t know, the anger is so similar in both their voices, but the message is clear. Fight.

So, he fights the way his fairy taught him. With emotion.

They’ve been together so long, seen so much. Years of school, of training together, of fighting Rosalind’s war, and the decades that followed, trying to find their way through teaching children who should never know the fear that still paralysed them at night. Of raising three children as they’d done everything since their own school years. Together. 

He’s well attuned to Farah’s magic, has spent countless nights figuring out how best to communicate via their minds. Broadcasting his emotions comes naturally when he’s hurt, telling his fairy that she’s alone, that there’s no one watching her back anymore. Find me when you can and not a second before.

Maybe she’s strong enough, maybe their connection solid enough, that she’ll hear him even from here. Maybe she’ll find him before it’s too late to say goodbye. And even if it is… Someone will need to finish the job.

He sits there and thinks of his family.

Hours pass, veins turning black and snaking up his body, vision starting to dim. He doesn’t know if it’s the infection, blood loss, or concussion, but before long he can barely see, just shadows and the throb of red eyes.

He just focuses on feeling, pushing everything out and praying it finds her.

Eventually, he hears a shout. He half thinks it must have passed his own lips, so feral does it sound, an expulsion of the pain wracking his body. Oh, how he would be screaming, if only he had the strength. 

But then he hears more voices, confusion and fear and little Terra Harvey taking charge. 

It must be the empath that cried, her suite mate Musa that Ben said she was struggling to connect with.

They must be closer friends than he’d assumed, if the way they approach is any indication, quick and quiet (and gripping to each other in their fear)

He’s surprised she can walk, considering how strongly he’s still projecting. He tries to stop, tries to breathe around the ache in his side and the burning of his blood, but they keep getting closer and he can’t let them, can’t hurt them, can’t-

He doesn’t realise he’s moved until he registers their sudden stop. Fear has fuelled his hand, fingers gripping a blood-slick handle and raising the sword, keeping it steady despite extreme pain.

He wants them to run, to _at least_ back away, but he should have learned to expect the stubbornness of fairies.

“It’s us, Mr Silva. It’s Terra Harvey and Musa-“

“I know who you are,” he growls. “Please get back!”

They can’t touch him, no they can’t-

“The Burned One’s cut you and you're infected, but we’re gonna help.”

Vines wrap around his arm, tightening only slightly before his wrist gives out and he drops his sword.

She keeps him pinned to the tree, careful of the char residue on his skin. He thinks she’s speaking, talking to him, but he can’t hear past the thud of his slowing heart. Squeezing his eyes shut, he concentrates on breathing, trying to cordon everything off and _focus_ , just as Farah taught him in their student days.

He’s scared.

Terra’s calm voice dictates what happens next, and soft fingers grip his jaw, the sour tang of Zanbach sliding down his throat. 

Blinking, light starts to come back, filtering through a green canopy innocent of the crimes it shelters. 

“Mr Silva?” Musa says, apprehensive but calmer now.

God only knows what she must feel now, whether she can sense the cold slide of Zanbach moving through his veins, how it clashes against the intruder so that he’s caught in a fever, between burning and freezing and _still stuck on the damn floor_.

He groans, curling forwards and barely registering hands wrapping around his arms and tugging him up. 

“We need to get him to my Dad. Fast.”

+++

He’s aware of the journey, but only in so much as it hurts. 

Feet dragging, wounds torn and coating his back and side in fresh blood, head throbbing in time with their steps. He doesn’t know how they manage it, these girls who have been thrown into a world that should have long ceased to exist, but somehow, they get him past the barrier. He knows they’ve reached the school when shouts start echoing, unease and panic building as teenagers watch their Headmaster dragged half-dead through their midst.

One of his helpers is replaced, and he recognises Dane’s soft tone, before Terra’s instructions start to register, and students part before them. 

The greenhouse appears in a haze of bright light and fresh grass, 

Ben runs out as they approach, Sam at his side.

“Saul!”

His old friend is gentle as he takes him, familiar magic tingling over his skin as he catalogues injuries. Sam takes his other side, the young fairy stable as ever as he helps support his uncle towards the sanctuary ahead.

They make it to the bench, and he sinks gratefully onto the sturdy wood, just barely resisting the urge to lie down and sleep. As it is, his eyes start to close, heavy with the pain shooting throughout his entire body.

He hears Musa groan, and tries to rein in what he can. It doesn’t make much difference and she mutters a quick excuse.

A moment later, he glimpses Sam leave, running after the young empath, seconds before Sky bursts in.

“Silva!”

Ben intercepts him, firm hands stopping him reaching the bench. Saul can’t hear much, low words hidden under the rush of his blood, but whatever’s said must be effective as Sky takes a deep breath and waits, glancing between his mentor and the earth fairies.

Terra moves over to help her dad, speaking quickly and quietly recounting the events in the woods. Even as he burns, Saul notices she doesn’t mention _why_ they were there in the first place.

He wonders where the rest of their little unit is. A few days into a new term and they’ve already cemented themselves as the troublemakers of the year. Farah had managed to laugh after telling him about the Burned One in the barn, saying it was difficult not to recognise their own younger selves in the fairies. Just as hellbent on fighting their own battles and protecting each other at any cost.

But Saul can't help but think, if they’d been half as curious as these kids, maybe they would have seen the betrayal before it struck.

Ben surprises from his sombre recollection, leaning over, dropper full of Zanbach aimed at the gash on his arm. He winces preemptively and can’t hide a groan as the sap makes contact.

“How bad is it?” Sky says, worry seeping into his voice. “Can you help him?”

“Sky, I’ll be fine, just let Professor Harvey do his work-” he’s cut off as the man in question starts treating his back and the much larger cut that was the first blow. The sting is far worse, an ache spreading up his spine and his arms buckle.

He’s still gasping when the door swings open again, concentrated panic rushing towards him in the form of-

“Farah,” he whispers.

“I should have moved it right away, should have had more soldiers,” she mutters, eyes roving over his injuries. He refuses to lift his head, refuses to show her the dark milky irises of an infection that’s already gone too far,

“Guys, could we have the room, please?” Saul pants. “We’ll keep you informed. Go on,” he adds, noticing the reluctance in their eyes.

Farah nods, urging Sky out as his boy lingers in the doorway.

The pain in his eyes is clear, his desire to stay written in tense shoulders, but he won’t have Sky see him weak, won’t scare him anymore than he already has.

With a last nod and worried glance, Terra pushes him out the door, just as Saul collapses. 

Farah slides onto the bench, deftly catching his shoulders as he sinks down, strength leaving him now that they're alone. He hears her faint gasp as she sees the extent on the infection, feels her hand clutch at his arm, bringing him down to her lap.

“Oh, Saul… What have they done to you?” she murmurs, stroking a hand through his hair. He blinks up at her, catching her eyes glow briefly as a sense of calm washes over him, settling into his bones in a touch so known, so soft, he struggles not to cry. 

Ben hovers over them, applying more ointment, before reassuring and urging him to speak. 

“It’s just us, Saul.”

They're so close, the three of them, his best friends, these fairies who know him better than he knows himself. Finally, he’s safe, in her arms, tended by a man he trusts more than a brother.

He hates to break the moment with his news, but it must be said and fast, while he still has the strength.

“The Burned One was loose before we got there,” he gasps out, watching as a strand of her hair moves with his words. “I saw someone… in the road.”

“Someone set it loose on purpose?” Farah asks, eyes intent on his and breath brushing his lips.

He can barely nod, sagging to the side as she turns to Ben in shock.

There’s a silent conversation, a quick back and forth as they each consider the ramifications. He takes the chance to rest, turning his head further into her hold, breathing deep the familiar perfume and all-pervading smell of greenery that surrounds them.

Eyes slipped closed, his body going slack as he ignores the impending sense of doom, the shift in the air Farah had warned him about.

It’s here alright. But there’ll be time for it later.

“Saul?” she whispers, stroking hair back from his brow. “Let me get you to bed?”

Under any other circumstances, he wouldn’t be able to resist a sly comment, teasing her into a blush.

But right now, he’s drained enough to consider sleeping on the bench, and whether she’d risk ruining her dress and reputation for a night of using her lap as a pillow.

Instead, he struggles, to pull himself up, groaning as Ben lends a hand and Farah huffs at his stubborn will.

“I could always carry you, you know,” she says, half a smirk peeking out.

He does know, has experienced her form of a telekinesis stretcher twice before, which is why he glares and tries standing up.

This is, of course, an unmitigated disaster, and results in her having to catch him anyway, the three friends ending up back on the bench like a can of sardines.

Laughing hurts, but it seems to work a hell of a lot better than the Zanbach.

Together, they get him back to his rooms, slipping through a dark courtyard. Terra, Musa, Sam and Dane, are nowhere to be seen, and he hopes he remembers to thank them for their help when he can walk unassisted again.

Sky, however, is waiting outside his door, slumped against the wall. He shoots up as they approach, opening the rooms and getting out of their slightly staggered path.

They settle him onto the sofa, and Ben takes his leave. First, he rattles off instructions for his care and signs to look out for, before negating most of it by insisting he’ll be back in a few hours to check up on his patient and change his bandages.

The door closes behind him and leaves an exhausted silence in his wake.

Saul wants nothing more than to sleep, but his boy is staring at him, a boy who looks just like his father did at that age, but with fear written in every line.

“Are you going to be okay?” he says eventually.

He can't lie in this moment, but the truth seems unnecessary when faced with such love.

Thankfully, Farah has grown to be quite the diplomat.

“The Battalion has been called. They're already tracking the Burned One and it’s only a matter of time before they kill it.”

A look crosses Sky’s face and Saul knows what he’s about to say before he even opens his mouth.

“I want to join them-“

“No!” The expulsion leaves him coughing, bent double and leaning into the woman that seems to define the word support. When he regains the ability to breathe, he finishes his emphatic point. “You are not going anywhere.”

Thunder crosses the young face, a protest clear and probably profane, but it’s cut off by their sane companion.

“We can discuss this in the morning. Uh, uh”- she stops either of them from interrupting -“right now you need to rest. And _you_ ”- she points at Sky -“need to go and find out just why those girls were past the barrier in the first place.”

Guilt replaces the anger.

“I see,” Farah says. “I can see a long conversation is in order. _Tomorrow_ ,” she reiterates, and he relaxes.

He stands, and starts for the exit, but pauses and turns back to Saul.

“Can I come back before class in the morning?”

_God, he sounds young_ , Saul thinks, images of a scrawny blonde kid running into his office, breathless and anxious because he was half an hour late _again_.

“Course you can.” He reaches a hand out, barely able to lift it but Sky gets the hint and walks back to take it and squeeze. Then, nodding, at them both, he leaves.

There’s another long moment of silence, and he starts to sink towards the comfortable looking shoulder next to him, before she stands suddenly.

“Oh no you don’t. Come on. Bed.”

He manages to raise an eyebrow, grinning as she sighs and shakes her head.

“Now,” she reiterates, and they slowly change rooms.

He can't even think about a shower without wanting to cry, so instead agrees to let her help.

The mind fairy works quickly, and soon he's settles under the sheets, the infection hiding under clean clothes, blood and char residue wiped away. He wishes they could do the same with the day’s awful events. Done, she goes to move away, but he stops her with a gentle hand.

There’s an undercurrent between them, a tension that stills the air, words unsaid that push at his lips.

She won’t look at him. He has to tell her.

“I failed.”

She turns sharply, eyes flashing grey as her control slips in a rare display. 

“You’re alive. That’s all that matters.” There’s a finality to the statement, a conversation he knows she doesn’t want to have, but he needs to finish.

“I shouldn’t be.”

“Saul-“ 

“The only reason I’m alive, is I hit my head. It thought I was dead. The rest of them- they fought and I…”

She won’t look at him.

His voice grows louder.

“I nearly left Sky, nearly left without telling him- I should have- I nearly left _you-_ “

“Saul,” she interrupts. “None of this is your fault.”

He looks doubtful.

“We know, better than any, _exactly_ how dangerous the Burned Ones are. I never should have left it alive.”

He moves to speak, to stop her damning words, but she runs right over him, words sharp as her body tenses for a fight.

“It was supposed to be secure. If I’d known, do you think for a second that I’d have let you go alone?! I should have been there, at your side, I should have-“

“Farah, Farah!” he interrupts her increasingly frantic speech. “If this isn’t my fault, then it sure as hell isn’t yours.”

He reaches out his good arm, a silent question answered when she sinks down to sit on the edge beside him.

“We make quite the pair, don’t we?” she whispers.

He hums, stroking her hand.

They sit quietly for a moment, letting the adrenaline run down, and appreciating the soft breathing of the other.

“Join me?” he asks eventually, nodding at the empty bed.

She hesitates a moment, likely evaluating whether it’s worth getting caught sneaking out of the Headmasters rooms and across the school, in the early morning, wearing yesterday’s clothes, before her eyes alight on the thick bandage peeking out his shirt sleeve.

On second thought, maybe she can persuade Ben to bring a new outfit.

Squeezing his hand, she heads for the bathroom, snagging a simple grey t-shirt and a pair of his boxers on the way. Minutes later, she clambers in beside him, careful to avoid jostling his injuries.

The duvet is warm, his breathing steadier than it’s been since they bought him back, and she hopes he’ll rest easy tonight.

For a moment, she thinks he’s fallen asleep already, before his soft voice whispers, “What will you do? About the girls?”

“They saved your life.”

“Hmm,” he agrees. “They still crossed the barrier.”

“I don’t know. They were out there for a reason, Saul, and I doubt they’ll tell me now. Teenagers do love a secret. I just have to hope they’ll come to me before anything worse happens.”

“And if they don’t?”

“Then, I suppose, I’ll have a chance to play big bad headmistress Dowling.” She smirks at him, leaning into the pillows. “Or maybe I’ll just ask nicely when I sense the mischief growing uncomfortably high.”

He laughs, sliding towards her until their heads rest together, his bad arm and side given plenty of room.

“It’s all going to change now, isn’t it, love?” he murmurs.

“No, I don’t think so.”

He shifts slightly to look at her.

“Rather, I think it’s all going to go back to how it used to be,” she continues. “And we need to be ready to face it.”

She stays with him for the rest of the night, waking only to help Ben tend to his wounds as gently as possible. He sweats, and shakes, and black veins snake up the back of his neck.

When he stirs, she holds tight, as he shivers with fever and nightmares alike, until dawn breaks and it’s time to leave.

Pressing a kiss to his forehead, she tries to slip out without waking him, but years of war are too ingrained in his sleep.

“Farah?”

“Shh,” she hushes him, “I have class in an hour. Rest until Ben checks in.”

He hums, blinking weary eyes and watching as she heads for the bathroom, waiting until she comes back to relax again.

She kisses him before she leaves, trying to ignore the sour combination of iron and sap and what it means for her Love.

Passing Sky on her way out, they offer the other a kind smile and a knowing smirk, respectively. The door opens, and she waits around the corner. After a few seconds, she hears laughter, from both father and son.

They're all going to be alright.

It will be weeks before either of them can sleep without waking in tears, unable to breathe and with visions of too many dead haunting the dark corners. But every time, the other is there, with gentle words and soft kisses, lulling them into some sense of safety.


End file.
